


home is a person

by exrsapphics



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealous Enjolras, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Protective Enjolras, Protectiveness, References to Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exrsapphics/pseuds/exrsapphics
Summary: There is nothing more important to Enjolras than his work. He doesn't have time for romance and he's never felt affections like that for another.That's until his favourite artist, favourite cynic, favourite person, really, is brought back to his flat - heartbroken over a seemingly unrequited love.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 393





	1. Chapter 1

If there wasn’t a stack of uncompleted work impatiently waiting upon Enjolras’s desk, he might’ve said yes to Courfeyrac’s invitation of a night out.

After all, it felt like years since the last time he’d properly had the chance of going to the bar with his mates and not spend the whole time thinking about all the assignments he should actually be doing instead. But it wasn’t unusual for him to spend his evening pouring over his studies while everyone else went out and had a good time; posting their happy, giggling faces all over social media. And that was fine, of course it was. Enjolras had decided long ago his dedication to his goals were far more important than trivialities such as drunken fun and dating, both of which Marius had tried to convince him into more than a few times.

Especially romance. It would be far too distracting and, besides, he didn’t have the _time_. That would have to wait, and that’s if he ever even met someone he was more than physically attracted to. Because it wasn’t as though he’d deny himself simple pleasures, like a keen man to spend a rare night in the company of. None of them he’d gotten to know in ways that weren’t physical, never had a real boyfriend before and he really didn’t see the appeal. There was never a connection or bond. So, what would be the point? He barely even believed in love anyway. The idea was exaggerated, unrealistic. It tended to be Grantaire that was the pessimist of their group, but when it came to love… there was little hope Enjolras had in that.

First on the list for achieving his goals was a new flat, though, he knew. And he wanted that to happen sooner rather than later. It couldn't be called home, it just didn't feel like it. He almost felt like an intruder, somewhere he could never truly be comfortable and himself.

It wasn’t surprising he’d managed to work himself into next morning. Fucking hell, _2:14_ , he realized, groaning at the watch strapped around his wrist.

Grantaire had gotten him it for Christmas, before mercilessly teasing him that he still wore watches 'like a little old grandad'. He can’t help but grin at the memory. Grantaire, tattoos trailing up his arms and sarcastic comments rolling off his tongue, had this way of getting under his skin like nobody else. Enjolras could complain about him as much as he wanted to absolutely anyone for his lack of time-keeping and responsibility, but secretly – he enjoyed his mischievous crooked smirk when he said something purposefully to rile him up and the glint in his eye when they’d bicker about one thing or another.

The door slams shut, and it’s startling.

He nearly falls out of his chair at the sound and, really, all he can think is how lucky it is nobody was there to see that. Grantaire would never stop laughing.

_Stop. Thinking. About. Grantaire._

It’s becoming second nature and he doesn’t understand. He cared for all his friends, but this felt different and weirdly new. He thinks about him when a song comes on the radio that he just knows he would love. He thinks about him when he sees a set of painting oils in the window of a shop, and seriously considers buying them for him, no matter the massive expense of it. He thinks about him when he watches Marius talk about Cosette for hours on end, wishing he was there to talk about something actually interesting or get into one of their classic debates.

"Enjolras? You up?" It’s far louder than a whisper, and he has to roll his eyes, the loud bang of the door would be enough to wake the whole street up.

"Yeah." He walks out, trying to prepare himself for whatever his friends had up their sleeves. They were the type of people to get into tons of trouble already, with alcohol involved it just got worse. One of these days he’d have to bail them out of prison, and he’d barely even be surprised it happened in the first place.

Cosette, giggling in Marius’s ear about something Enjolras would no doubt find irritating, and Marius enthusiastically responding with boyish grins.

Beside them is an uncomfortable Courfeyrac, who must’ve been the one persuaded into taking the role of designated driver this time. He could be sensible when he wanted to, Enjolras supposed, but it was very rare and usually when others were distressed. 

What he doesn’t expect is a weak looking Grantaire, staggering in and nearly falling, only being stopped by the arms of Courfeyrac.

"What’s going on?" he asks seriously, concerned by the way R is holding Courfeyrac’s arm with such determination as though if he let go he’d die.

"It’s… a long story," Courfeyrac says, as if that’s any explanation. "Marius, Cosette, mind waiting out in the hall?"

They don’t need to be told twice, immediately up and away, too caught up in each other to even notice what was going on with the other three.

"Grantaire?" 

A couple seconds of silence, then a non-committal grunt. "Apollo."

That was more than a little disappointing. Enjolras had always revelled in Grantaire’s undivided and lingering attention, good or bad though it may be. Every day without fail, he’d greet him with a certain amount of joy, or even cynical sarcasm, in a way that made Enjolras feel so special.

"Why did you bring me here?" he turns and demands of Courfeyrac, eyes desperate and his grip tightening.

'I don’t want to leave you alone at your own place right now, okay? Ép is still out, she won't be back til late." The reply is calm, but firm.

"Grantaire, what’s going on? You’re... well, you're usually a happier drunk."

"Yeah, well, not tonight."

"Why? Can I help?"

“Enjolras, don’t push it—”

"Because I’m so completely and hopelessly in love with a stupid, _stupid_ man who doesn’t love me back and never will."

Silence.

There’s no reason for the words to hurt as much as they do. It’s like a tiny stabbing in his chest, and he doesn’t even know why.

Grantaire’s in love. 

There’s no reason for him to wish that his next words out of his mouth would've been 'it's you'. No reason for him to wonder what this man has that Enjolras doesn't.

No reason it should feel so painful.

"Grantaire, do you want to go sit down?" Courfeyrac asks gently.

R nods in a way that reminds him of a wounded puppy, and flops onto the sofa.

His voice has considerably dropped down for Grantaire to not hear, "I was wondering if he could stay here for the night."

"I mean, yeah, of course."

"Oh, thankyou so much," he lets out a breath of relief, "I’m worried. He's okay, you know, not drinking too much anymore, but tonight… I don’t know."

"Fuck, I didn’t notice," Enjolras takes a gulp, "it’s about who he’s in love with, I'm guessing?"

Courfeyrac nods. "It’s been a year or so now. I thought it was just a crush, that it’d go away eventually. But it hasn't and I don't think it will, honestly."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just keeping him here is enough, Enj. I’d let him stay at mine and Ferre's if we didn't already have Cosette and Marius. They live too far away for us to drop them off at this time."

"Yeah, good luck with that," he snorts, knowing exactly how flirty they become when intoxicated.

He hates the thought that goes into his head. Grantaire being the same with this faceless guy, kissing him, touching him. Why did it hurt as much as it did?

R’s words echo back in his head, and Enjolras steps closer to Courfeyrac.

"Does… does this man really not love Grantaire?" he asks, trying desperately to keep the strange hope out of his voice.

"Oh, no. It’s definitely reciprocated. He always stares at him whenever he’s not looking and he values R’s opinion over anyone else’s. Oh, and he’d do anything for Grantaire. Literally _anything_. Neither of them see it, of course. Poor Grantaire’s too self-loathing to realize it, and the guy doesn’t even understand his feelings for him yet. But one day they will, I think. I know you don’t agree with this kind of stuff but they’re meant for each other – I just know they are."

Enjolras can’t help the way his fingernails dig further into his palms enough to leave scratches. _Meant for each other._ It’s not the words that irritate him, even though it usually did because it made people feel like they were supposed to stay together when they wanted to leave. No, it was the fact it was about Grantaire. Who he'd never thought about being 'meant' for someone before.

Grantaire, who, looking back, was now laying asleep on the sofa, his dark curls messy and sprawled on the cushion, his face soft and relaxed. Once he’s seen it, he can hardly look away. He’s never seen R look so calm, so peaceful and serene. Lost in a land of dreams where reality is non-existent, Grantaire’s happy.

Hearing a little grunt of a snore from Grantaire – which is _not_ cute, definitely _not_ – he turns back to Courfeyrac, realizing he’d been staring for far too long than what would be considered platonically possible.

The situation comes back down to him. R’s in love with someone.

"Whoever he is," he spits out, "he doesn’t deserve Grantaire in the slightest. Sounds like an absolute idiot."

Courfeyrac snorts out a laugh, and Enjolras’s gaze snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"This isn’t funny. I’m not allowing Grantaire being hurt like this."

"No, no, I understand," he replies, a faint smile still on his face, "and you’re right. He is an idiot, I've known that forever. But he won’t be for too long."

Enjolras sighs, not being able to stop himself from looking over at R again. It made him so irrationally annoyed, the idea of him dating someone. Someone being able to touch him, stroke his hair, kiss those lips to finally make him shush when he won't stop coming out with puns or annoyingly good debates.

"Think I’ll leave." Courfeyrac speaks up with an arrogant smirk, and a knowing look in his eyes.

"Huh?"

"See you both later," he says with a small mock salute, already walking away.

"Alright. Well, bye then."

If Enjolras is honest – his gaze has already drifted back to Grantaire, entirely distracted by him.

Once the door has clicked shut, Enjolras wastes no time in going over to his sleeping form and leaning down beside him.

Up close, he’s even more handsome. Even in an unconvential way. A handful of tiny freckles are scattered around his nose, his black eyelashes long and brushing against his skin, and his lips, his _lips_ , looking so soft. Soft enough to press his own against them.

At this point, Enjolras has to admit he’s beginning to used to these constant non-platonic thoughts around R and isn’t trying to block it out anymore. Surely there’d be an explanation, most likely that he just hadn’t been with someone for a while and was just suddenly into the first attractive guy he saw. Although if that were the case, it equally could’ve been Courfeyrac. Or Marius. And that just made him feel quite nauseous.

It wasn’t important. What was important was making sure that Grantaire was comfortable, warm and safe.

Resisting the urge to reach out and tuck a stray curl behind his pierced ear, he reaches out and carefully takes his boots off, careful not to wake him with his movements.

Next is a blanket. Enjolras’s flat was always cold, the heating broken for years that he couldn’t really be bothered to fix since he never really noticed the difference anyway. But Grantaire was always sensitive to the frost.

He’s actually shivering, he realizes with a frown. Without a second thought, he goes into his bedroom and grabs his thickest and coziest blankets that he usually only saves for himself during winter. Gently, he places them all on R, who immediately snuggles into them, embraced by the sudden warmth with a moan.

Ignoring the stupid fluttering in his stomach and pounding of his heart, he puts his largest bowl from the cupboard on the floor by his head just in case, and a bottle of water with a few migraine pills on the table for when he woke.

Even when Enjolras makes his way up to bed, he can’t take his mind off Grantaire. Grantaire, asleep on his sofa, cuddled in blankets.

And that’s when it hits him.

The flat finally felt like home, when it had Grantaire inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Being sat in a Les Amis meeting at 11am, watching the members trickle in slowly with notes and pens, smiles on their faces, ready for righteous passion and fury, was usually the perfect day for Enjolras. But now, it seemed like his very own personal hell.

Knowing Grantaire was still curled up asleep on his sofa in the flat was massively distracting him. Especially now knowing that someone, some absolutely undeserving man had captured R’s attention in all its entirety was most definitely in this room with him, given the deductions he’d made the previous night as he couldn’t sleep.

1\. Courfeyrac said he’d been in love with him for a year, meaning he’s known him for some time.

2\. This means it to be a friend of his, could be from his art school but unlikely since he barely talked of them and the only time he did, they were simply named ‘a bunch of posh pricks’.

3\. Loves R back but not explicit about it enough to be noticed by many, including the guy himself.

Enjolras was trying hard to get himself to concentrate, but it was a useless attempt. Everyone was chatting away, waiting for him to get it all started like he always did. But no. All he could do was squint at everyone, trying to figure out if they were who had caused Grantaire such misery last night.

Marius was a no, of course, being totally enamoured with Cosette. Courfeyrac too, since R had often described him as a brother and treated him like one. There were only a few others Grantaire had known for more than a year but all of them were the same. Bahorel, Feuilly, Joly, Jehan… all either in other relationships that they were happy in or none that he believed could spark any meaning for Grantaire other than friendship.

The notes he’d written for this particular meeting remain uselessly dead in his lap, and he finds he has zero effort to try and be bothered today – just wanting to get back home to Grantaire as soon as possible. Because, alright, yes, Les Amis just wasn’t the same without the cynical opinions and interesting discussion that Grantaire brought with him.

Sighing, he passed them over to Combeferre beside him, who gave him a quizzical look but stood up and began anyway. He was like his second in command, almost. He trusted him to be in charge, and often even looked forward to it. They were both so committed to the cause yet so different.

Where Enjolras was careless, a little impulsive and sometimes bordering on arrogant, Combeferre stayed gentle, compassionate.

He looked upon him as the crew laughed at one of his jokes, smiling slightly. Ferre was probably one of his closest friends. He may even say best friend. They had a bond, an understanding, a likeness, he hadn't felt before their meeting. Until his smile completely dropped.

 _Combeferre_.

It made sense. Horrible, horrible sense.

Courfeyrac had told him the person reciprocated his feelings, but Grantaire didn’t think for one second that he did. Combeferre was kind to everyone, calm and understanding. Especially his friends, like R. So, he could’ve mistook his affections for nothing more than a friendly manner that was typical of Ferre.

And Courfeyrac had also said he didn’t think it would be long before the two of them got together. Enjolras had been so sure he and Courf had been exchanging glances for a while that didn’t mean anything platonic. Sneaking off sometimes. Whispering. Sharing inside jokes.

Clearly not.

He should feel happy, pleased for the two of them. Perhaps he should be joining Courf in his conspiring to make them a couple. After all, two people he cared about deeply, liked, and admired.

But, fuck, it made him feel rather ill. Because there would be nothing to do other than sit and watch it happen right in front of him. Combeferre’s hands being able to ruffle Grantaire’s messy hair when he walks past and feel the stubble at his chin when he pressed light kisses against those pretty lips.

That wasn’t even the worst part. The bit that made him want to run off and hide away from the world was the fact that Combeferre was everything Enjolras wasn’t. In fact, complete opposites. The only thing they shared was passion for Les Amis. But he was kind, considerate. Nothing like his reckless ideas and failed plans.

He shakes his head. What was wrong with him? Combeferre was sure to treat him right and that was all Enjolras should wish for. But just the thought of it makes him want to hate Combeferre, even though he doesn't, not in the slightest, and can hardly blame him for falling for R.

Even still. Nobody should get to do that. Nobody deserved those skilled artistic hands, the halo of dark curls that were just begging to be cradled, to listen to his late-night funny ramblings and antics that Enjolras loved when he received, or to bathe in his crooked sunshine smiles. Nobody. Not even him.

Because R was one of a kind. He was _it_. Enjolras knows he’ll never meet another like him, nor does he even want to. Grantaire’s incredibly low opinion of himself is almost laughable to Enjolras because, really, who couldn’t love Grantaire?

 _Who couldn’t love Grantaire?_ He repeats it back in his head. _Who couldn’t love Grantaire?_

"Joly," he hisses to the raven-haired boy beside him. "I feel sick. I may leave early today."

Joly properly turns to face him, with a frown and concerned eyes. Enjolras didn't think he had ever left early before.

"How so?"

He sighs. "My heart, it hurts. And my stomach keeps aching. Perhaps I should see a doctor. It's likely stress."

"hen do you feel like this? All the time or at different parts in the day?"

"Only when I’m thinking about or near Gr-"

Oh. _Oh._

He stops himself, his heart dropping.

"Never mind. I’m fine. Forget I said anything." he turns back around to face Ferre's talk, despite Joly’s continued worried questions.

He’d heard enough about this from friends to know this wasn’t an illness. Well, in his eyes it could be.

Holy fuck.

For the first time in his entire life – he was in love.

And not only that, but in love with the cynical, intelligent, impossible Grantaire who already gifted somebody his soul. Whether it was Combeferre or not. 'Somebody' was not him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for all the support and encouragement on the first chapter, your comments mean everything to me!! So I decided to continue, I'm sorry if it's a little short. I've already got drafts for the next few chapters coming so should be up soon! Thanks again everyone, hope you're all healthy and happy. ❤️


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow update and if it's disappointing or short. quarantine has me very unmotivated, insecure and tired :( but i'm trying!! i live for these idiots. love you all, thankyou for reading ❤️

If there’s one thing Grantaire is good at dealing with – it’s hangovers. Unrequited love coming in at a close second, but considering how ridiculously drunk he'd wound up the previous night after Cosette told him about setting Enjolras up with a friend of hers, he might not be coping with it as well as he originally thought. A friend who, in her words, was 'a dream guy' and 'perfect for him'. 

After that, the night became a blur. Dancing with Éponine, a drinking contest with Bahorel, ranting to Courfeyrac and Combeferre about how annoyingly beautiful Enjolras’ sea blue eyes were. Of course, those two had figured it out early on in the early stages of him developing feelings for the fierce leader. As his closest friends, they'd said, they could see the sparkle that many people got when they came into contact with him. Apparently, staring at him like he was the only person in the whole world and his face changing into an alarming shade of pink whenever their hands would brush wasn’t exactly subtle.

Not that it mattered anymore. It seemed Grantaire would never escape from the amount of love he had for his Apollo. He’d tried his best to get over him, direct his attentions elsewhere, but it never worked – his gaze would always constantly return to _him_.

It didn’t exactly help that Courf had decided the best thing to do would be to take him to Enjolras’s. Because, of course, despite staying up all night, most likely exhausted, he was still absolutely ethereal. His shoulder-length golden waves pulled casually into a bun at the back of his head, little tendrils of ringlets around his ears. It was so like him to be in the face of such beauty and be a dishevelled mess instead of as impressive as him.

Waking up to Enjolras's cologne and his familiar minty smell on the blankets he’s got strewn across his body wasn’t at all an unwelcome start to the day. Not at all. Really, he could’ve easily fell back to sleep sunk inside the warm sofa, but his phone had pinged a few times and he decided he couldn’t just ignore it. He might hungover and still fairly exhausted – but if a friend needed him, he’d be there in a minute.

 **_Ferre:_ ** **Hey you alright? You’re not here, and Courfeyrac told me where he dropped you off last night :)**

 **_R:_ ** **nah idk what you think happened but nothing did ofc he doesn’t like me. anyways everything hurts come save me**

 **_Ferre:_ ** **Physically or emotionally? Courfeyrac was so sure that would work.**

 **_R:_ ** **bold of u to assume it’s not both**

 **_R:_ ** **fuck**

 **_R:_ ** **i told him i was in love with someone who didn’t feel the same**

 **_R:_ ** **he’s probably figured it out already shit**

 **_R:_ ** **well that’s my life ruined**

 **_Ferre:_ G** **rantaire.**

 **_R:_ ** **wot**

 **_Ferre:_ ** **He’s spent this whole time distracted, he even left me to do the speech.**

 **_R:_ perfect h** **e knows and he’s figuring out the best way to turn me down let’s just hope he doesn’t hate me**

 **_Ferre:_ Yo** **u really have absolutely overestimated how smart that man is.**

 **_R:_ ** **?**

 **_Ferre:_ ** **Hold on, he’s coming over. Talk to him okay? You never know. Love you.**

 **_R:_ yeah i guess anyway ** **love you too**

Throwing his phone back on the table beside him, Grantaire sits up and groans at the ache in his stiff limbs. He really shouldn’t have drunk that much last night.

Well, there wasn’t anything to do about it. Enjolras was bound to find out eventually but he had wished it could’ve been when he was more put together or could be able to tell him that it was fine because he was over him and actually mean it.

But, thankfully, he was a good liar when he tried.

Losing Enjolras would be the end of everything for him. It would not only be the lack of passionate speeches and determined sparkle in his incredible eyes, but also the loss of his friends – they wouldn’t choose him over anybody if he stopped going to the meetings altogether. Not that he could blame them, they were all invested in the cause and probably would even appreciate him being out the way so there would be nobody standing up to unrealistic ideals or playing devils advocate.

Sighing, he rubs his eyes tiredly, trying to figure out what would throw Enjolras off track.

_I didn't know what I was talking about. I'm not desperately in love with you and probably break when you reject me. I'm not terrified that I'll never fall in love with someone else again like I've fallen in love with you. I wouldn't do anything just to get your attention. My heart doesn't melt a little every time you smile. Not at all._

A plan in mind, he decides to text Enjolras.

 **_R:_ ** **thanks for taking care of me yesterday appreciate it going home now see you around**

He waited a few minutes for a response.

Nothing.

No surprise there, then.


	4. Chapter 4

Maybe there was a part of Enjolras that did regret hurling his phone across the room after seeing Grantaire’s message, anger and hurt getting the best of him, causing the first crack in his otherwise pristine phone.

He’d felt awful afterwards, typing out a million responses the whole night but kept deleting it all.

**_Apollo:_** **No problem. Anytime.**

No.

_**Apollo:** _ **I'm worried about you.**

Too vague.

 **_Apollo:_ ** **R, I’ve been loving and thinking about you for such a long time but I didn’t realize until the other day when I knew I was going to lose you. I’ve never looked at someone or loved someone the way I do for you. And, Grantaire, I never meant to upset you all those times but you kept distracting me. But not like that, I mean, how you think.**

There was no way he was sending that.

 **_Apollo:_ ** **You may not know but I do love hearing your interruptions and ideas. And, honestly, having your attention. It’s just your grin and your eyes staring into mine and, well, it does things to me. I was confused and annoyed and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. Do you even know how incredible you are? Really. I love everything about you. Your little doodles on the back of every damn bit of paper you get. The way you look at me with such pride when I finish a speech. And you’re the only one in the crowd who doesn’t clap, but you never need to. Because I can see your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. And now I’m rambling. Shit. There’s also how much you care for your friends. Listen, I know you’re with Combeferre so I shouldn’t be doing this. He’s always been a good friend and I’ve never wanted to infringe on your happiness. But I can’t anymore. I can prove how much better I’d be if you let me try. I promise I’ll try to show you how much I adore you instead of just keeping those feelings inside. You don’t deserve it. I’m sorry, we–**

That would be more embarrassing than anything.

And he definitely wouldn’t be able to face Grantaire’s rejection after pouring out all his undying affection to him. The worst part was he had no doubt his rejection would be sweet, gentle, sympathetic. Because he wasn’t a cruel man, unlike Enjolras who could brush someone off regardless of their feelings.

Eventually, he’d fully given up when his eyes met Combeferre’s in the photo of Les Amis on the mantelpiece. His face framed by the thick black glasses on his face and his arms wrapped around either side of Feuilly and Courf who had no doubt told him some exaggerated anecdote that Enjolras would just roll his eyes at.

And, really, what was he supposed to say? How could he act normal around him? Not after seeing Combeferre’s phone light up with a ‘love you’ text from Grantaire.

So, not as unrequited as R had believed.

There had still been a part of Enjolras that was somewhat convinced he could talk himself into forget about their relationship, since it didn’t seem to be happening soon, but that message confirmed his fears.

Others could say he was making presumptions, which he did occasionally do, but he could read between lines. He may not have many or been brought up with them – but he was certain friends did not say that to each other. From his memory, it was only Courfeyrac and Cosette.

And, fuck, it was only 7pm. _Little too early for a mental breakdown just yet_ , that was R’s trademark line of an evening.

And there he was off again – his mind on Grantaire.

It had been a few days. Bahorel had called a mock 'emergency meeting' so they could prepare the café for Feuilly's surprise birthday party the next day.

He was so horribly lovesick. He’d finished his speech, which he finally gave after distracting himself enough from R to work on, pausing every few sentences to give room for Grantaire to jump in with his opinions. They never came. It was odd.

Because he wasn’t there.

And, yes, this was concerning. R barely ever missed meetings since he became more sober.

He’d quit his consistent drinking habits a couple years back which was around the same time Enjolras started to pay attention to him. His usual cynical interruptions were back, he didn't think that would ever change, but instead he wasn’t rambling anymore – his comments were intelligent, witty and coherent, often leaving Enjolras taken aback, wondering for the rest of the night how to retort.

That was when he’d realized there was far more to Grantaire than what he’d originally thought, a mysterious drunk guy in the corner who looked like he couldn’t care less about anything or anyone.

After that, he’d truly become a part of the Amis.

He knew he couldn’t ask Combeferre where Grantaire was, the person he would usually go to in these situations, and ask if was okay, risking giving his feelings for the cynic away. There was Éponine, who’d joined after seeing how serious R was about it, but she was glaring away at him. That wasn’t too uncommon, to be fair. She was fiercely protective of everyone and had a special soft spot for Grantaire. And Enjolras had insulted him more than a few times without even trying.

Everyone chartered away around him, packing up their things with the decorations and preparations finished off, going out into the night. He just looks around aimlessly, not in the mood to go home to his lonely flat but not wanting to stay around when there’s no Grantaire to discuss his speech with.

He was the only one that had ever been fully honest with Enjolras about what he thought without sugar-coating anything. It was why when he gave him a fully positive review, 'it was great, Apollo, be proud', before sauntering away with his backpack hanging off his shoulder, paint-splattered art folders sticking out the top, unruly curls tucked under that usual green beanie, it created a twisty feeling in his stomach and sent his heart flying.

Yeah, he’d much rather R was here.

He sighs, looking at his usual seat that’s empty and void of the artist.

And with that, a face appears in front of him and he can’t help but jump slightly at Éponine’s sudden voice.

"Looking for R?" she asks sharply. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with him all night. He said he’s fine, just needs to be alone."

"Right. Okay," he nods back, not wanting to seem like he cares too much.

Oh, _screw that_. It didn’t matter anymore.

"Do you know why?"

"You tell me, Mister," Cosette pushes in, taking her arm, "let’s go, ‘Ponine. Not worth it. Good luck with your date, Enjolras."

With that, Cosette’s arm linked through hers, she stalks off, sleek brunette waves swinging in a ponytail behind her. It reminds him of Grantaire’s painting of her that hangs in his small not-really-a-studio studio, the strange beauty in her hooded, soulful eyes and mischievous smile captured perfectly.

_Good luck with your date, Enjolras._

Oh, fuck. _Fuck._ That.

Without the reminder, he’d have entirely forgotten the date Joly set him up on with some random friend of his.

Seemed everyone else had remembered it except for him. Because his mind was preoccupied with Grantaire. When he lets his mind wander, he thinks how he had never realized his feelings before. He’d never thought of anyone in such a manner and most of it was nowhere close to platonic.

Joly, his partners Musichetta and Bossuet by his side, giving Enjolras a wink as he walks by that makes him actually cringe.

"I think you’ll really like Montparnasse, E! See ya!"

"Uh, where am I meeting him again?"

Musichetta scoffs. "Forgot already, eh?"

But Joly just grins, as if he’d expected it. "Check your phone. The address is on there. Have fun, alright? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!"

They’ve disappeared into the night in an instant, and Enjolras is left awkwardly standing outside beside the Musain in the damp, slightly foggy air.

He calls for a taxi after going through Joly’s previous texts, that were filled with exclamation points and heart emojis.

Frankly, it was impossible to know what to expect with this Montparnasse. Joly always seemed to see the best in everyone, no matter who they were.

The taxi arrives fairly quickly, the driver easily picking up on the fact Enjolras would send him a death glare if he tried to start up a conversation.

While he’s sitting there, his heart thumping, Enjolras just can’t stop himself and he clicks onto Grantaire’s contact.

He scrolls up a little, looking over an old conversation from a month or so ago. It was a massive rant over a TV show he was watching, about the queerbaiting and ignored homoerotic subtext. It was a whole block of writing, clearly meant for Éponine as her name was mentioned multiple times. And Enjolras found himself intrigued with his every word.

Before Grantaire profusely apologized for his mistake like he knew he would, he rang him. Raised questions and talked about other points he hadn’t brought up.

It’d gone on for hours, deep into the night. Back and forth, back and forth. It was the first time he’d realized how much he actually enjoyed Grantaire’s company.

They never spoke about it. But when he’d seen him with their friends the next day, they’d shared a secret small smile with each other that had made Enjolras’s heart leap in his chest.

And then the most recent, dating from just a week back. Just a simple message.

_flower crowns suit you_

The protest they’d had gotten prepared for had been cancelled due to road problems and Courfeyrac had taken this chance to prepare a picnic. A picnic. Enjolras had groaned dramatically but gave in at his friends’ hopeful faces. It was fair, they deserved a break like this. They’d been working day and night for the protest and the group, so, fine, if they wanted a picnic Enjolras was nobody to stop them.

Within minutes, they were all giggling at one thing or another, food being shared and the sun shining on their happy smiles. It wasn’t really a surprise that Enjolras sat more on the outside, fiddling with his phone, still annoyed that all their work had been for nothing.

Grantaire had flopped down next to him, a lazy grin gracing his lips.

"It’s time for you to be cheered up, whether you like it or not."

With that, he’d gotten to picking daisies around the field they were seated in, and Enjolras had gone back to his phone – wondering what time would be acceptable to leave already.

But then Grantaire was back, breathless, but looking even happier than before, even proud. Enjolras looked down to his hands, where the flowers were braided together in a chain. A crown. 

Before he had the chance to argue, R had placed it upon his head and smiled at his handiwork.

“There. Now you’re truly Apollo. So beautiful.” He’d touched his hair a little before seeming to remember something and pull away. The feeling of his calloused fingers running through his locks was… well, it was lovely. There was no better way to describe it. It was something he could get used to.

So, maybe he decided in that moment that flower crowns weren’t too bad when they were made by R who had looked at him in that way.

Of course, Grantaire admired him – he’d always known that. And for a while, that was enough. Not anymore. He didn’t _love_ him. Not in the same way Enjolras did for him.

He wanted to think that Grantaire sometimes looked at him like he was the only person in the world. But he was probably thinking about the other man the whole time, he thought back bitterly.

It was just that. A little text he hadn’t ever found the words to reply to was enough to make him sigh and know that _yep_ , there was no getting out of this love for Grantaire now.

He was in too deep.


	5. Chapter 5

In every single way possible, Enjolras would much prefer to be with Grantaire than whatever this was.

Of course Joly would be the one of the few in the Amis to know someone like Montparnasse, who had such an angry and violent persona. Amidst his grumbles or silence that Enjolras had get to accustomed to in the past half an hour of his company, he’d mentioned Jehan a few times which really wasn’t surprising either. Those two were the only things they could hardly talk about.

And it wasn’t exactly Enjolras’s own fault if his mind kept conjuring up things he would say if Grantaire were there in Montparnasse’s place.

He could just imagine what R would be like on a date. There wouldn’t be a dull or silent moment, like there was with him. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Enjolras had never liked dates. Not once. They were annoying, and wasting valuable time that could be spent somewhere far more important. If he hadn’t been so tired and lacking energy the past few weeks, he might’ve fought a little more at Joly’s persistence of getting him someone. Most people backed off in minutes when he’d opened his mouth about the cause.

For a long time, he’d never needed nor wanted anyone.

He sighs.

Not until Grantaire.

But if he were there – he’d have laughed at his comment about how destructive business chains like these were and told him to relax for once, just enjoy it for a night. He wouldn’t have given a disinterested nod like his actual date had. If Grantaire were there he’d have mocked Enjolras’s terrible pronunciation of the intricate dishes on the menu. He’d have given him a little smile, a faint blush on his cheeks, when Enjolras had tucked a curl behind his ear simply because he could and wanted to. R would’ve noticed the aesthetic tattoo on the waitress’ wrist and complimented it to her. He'd have a debate on who should pay, insisting he would, because they debated on most things. They'd eventual decide to split it and end up laughing about how ridiculous they were. Undoubtedly, it would just happen the next time. It makes Enjolras want to smile thinking about it.

_Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire._

It was pointless even just trying to enjoy being in a situation like this when it wasn’t with him. How he was so blind to these feelings for so long, refusing any notion he liked, let alone loved, Grantaire was beyond him. 

At least it wasn’t too cruel to Montparnasse, he was just as invested in it as he was. Joly really was a persuasive person when he wanted to be.

There’s silence as they leave the dangerously hot restaurant and into the dark street outside, only lit by street lamps that were barely working.

“So.” He starts, but finds he doesn’t know how to even continue.

“Yeah.” Is the only response he receives.

“Right. See you around, I guess.”

He hadn't been on many, but he did know maybe he had been slightly impolite and barely interactive with his date. What was the point, though, really? He doubted he'd ever see him again. Jehan would be sure to mend any upset anyway.

As Enjolras begins to walk away, he stops in his tracks.

It was like the universe _truly_ hated him.

R, still soaked in the earlier rain, over-sized jumper useless against the cold by the look of it, his curls escaping from under his battered green beanie.

His eyes widen when he realizes his gaze has been met.

Without a second thought, Enjolras immediately goes over to him, concerned by the visible shiver running through his body.

“Grantaire?”

“I. Uh.” His teeth are chattering and Enjolras winces.

“Take this.”

He quickly shakes off his usual red jacket and drapes it over Grantaire’s shaky shoulders.

Enjolras’s certain the way he’s staring at R’s flushed cheeks is going to reveal his feelings so he quickly says, “You should’ve brought a coat, you idiot.”

Ugh. That was far too fond for him to be just platonic.

“Grantaire. Walk with me?"

He nods awkwardly, putting his arms through the holes of the jacket as he goes and taking a sigh of relief as he gains some warmth into his body again. The arms are slightly long on him, covering up his fingers a little and, wow, seeing him in Enjolras' own usual jacket is making him feel… _things_. Which is decidedly not good when he's around the man if he ever slipped up and revealed them.

“How long have you been out here?” Enjolras asks, staring at the path ahead to avoid making eye contact with him again.

“Not long, I promise. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to stop your date. I was just wandering around. I saw you two leaving and, ugh, I don’t even know. I am sorry. Really.”

He’s repeating himself now, stumbling over his words and Enjolras simply hates it.

“Yes, I know! I don’t care about that. I’m _worried_. I mean, you miss our meeting and now I see you out here, freezing cold in the rain.”

“You were… worried.”

“Yes, I was. Is that really all you got from that?”

He can see Grantaire close his eyes for a moment in his peripheral vision. “I was just trying to clear my head. You already know what it’s about, I know you do.”

“The man you love?”

Grantaire looks at him with that, his blank expression indecipherable.

“Maybe.”

“You told me about him. When you were drunk.”

“Yeah. Okay. This is not a conversation I was looking forward to. Let me explain, please, I don’t want to make things weird between—”

He hated how nervously Grantaire was speaking, fiddling with his hands and chewing his lip.

It was an annoyingly handsome sight, especially when he was trying not to get distracted from the conversation.

“Just let me speak for once.” Enjolras takes a deep breath, preparing himself. “Listen, Courfeyrac told me he loves you back. So. Don’t give up hope. I mean, you probably already know this, I saw Combeferre’s phone and- whatever. I just thought you should know. You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself. You deserve better.”

“I- what?”

Enjolras doesn’t respond, staring ahead still.

“Thankyou.” R gently whispers, so genuine that it makes his heart flutter. “I appreciate that.”

He nods simply, not knowing what to say.

“Can I ask why you’re being like this all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being really nice to me. Not that I don’t like it.”

“I… I don’t know.”

_Because I realized the truth about why I act the way I do around you. Because I’m in love with you. So fucking in love._

“I know. But I think I do. You don’t have to take pity on me, okay?” he sighs tiredly. “I’m not one of your charity cases.”

“Hey, no, I’ve never treated you that way.” he replies defensively.

“Enjolras. I get it. I do. You’re such a kind person, of course you’re trying to cheer me up. It’s nice of you. You’d do it for anyone. But if you’re gonna be like this with me today then ignore me the next, it’s not worth it.”

Enjolras has to stop himself from getting into somewhat of an argument with the man which was certain to happen if they continued this way. Taking a breath, he says the truth.

“I’m doing this because you’re my friend, R.”

_No matter how much I’d like to be more_ , he nearly says.

Grantaire is looking at him, his eyes confused and searching his own as if to see that he’s lying.

“You’re confusing me.”

“Obviously.”

“I thought you hated me.”

The opposite.

“I thought you hated _me_.”

Grantaire’s usual crooked grin spreads across his face. “What? How? As _if_ I could hate you! Wow, seems we’ve both been very stupid. Why do you think I call you Apollo if I hate you?”

That was possibly the best news Enjolras had heard, but he tries to ignore the rapid beating of his chest.

“Because it’s a terrible nickname and you know it annoys me.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes fondly. God, how Enjolras reveled in that look whenever he felt lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it.

“You love it really. And It’s because of who Apollo is, what he represents.”

“Which is?”

Grantaire stops walking, and stares at him in the eyes.

“Hope. The possibility of good in the world. He helps the less fortunate and destroys evil. Exactly what you stand for.”

Before he can give his ‘I’m not a god’ speech like he had when they’d first met, Grantaire continues. “He’s also not perfect. I know you’re not a god, Enj. I can see you thinking it. I mean, I know first-hand you’re capable of being terrible. But here’s my point; so is he. And yet both of you still do everything in your power to make the world a better place. Despite all the bad things that happen, you do your best not to succumb to that darkness that you could easily give into. You’re determined. You keep going no matter what life does to you. It just… it gives me hope for the world. Which I didn’t have for a long time. _You_ give me hope, that is.”

Enjolras doesn’t think he’s ever been in such awe of a person until this moment.

“Well. Uh. I didn’t know that.” He stays stupidly, and, great, he wishes he could take that back to say something equally as smart as what he’d been speaking.

Grantaire laughs, though, and it's like his heart is just going to explode in a minute.

“It helps that he’s got hair just like you.”

Enjolras suppressed a smile as he spoke, “You know when we talk after meetings sometimes? I know it's just to point out the flaws in my arguments for you but anyway. And that time we spoke for ages on the phone. I liked that.”

“So did I.” he replies softly.

“Maybe we could do that more often? Just without the heated debates, you know.”

“Like… friends?”

He nodded firmly. “Like friends.”

Grantaire’s face had entirely lit up at this and it took all of Enjolras’s strength not to give into his urge to lean in and kiss him right there.

“Well, _friend_. I should be off back home. Get a cab or something.” Grantaire gave him a mock salute. “Things to do, places to be, people to see. You know how it is. Hustle never stops.”

Enjolras just raises an eyebrow, but it makes Grantaire huff with a smile.

“Okay, yeah, alright, I’m just gonna make pasta, watch Netflix and then sleep – what’s your point?”

Enjolras couldn’t help but let out a laugh, abruptly stopping as soon as Grantaire started stepping away.

“You could come back with me for a bit. My apartment’s closer, anyway.” Enjolras said, shrugging, before he could change his mind or outgrow the confidence that had possessed him to speak. “If you want to.”

“Really?” his voice is soft, gentle, almost disbelieving.

“I mean, I’d like to know more about you. Without all of Amis here.”

It wasn’t a lie in the slightest. Grantaire had always been a mystery to be uncovered, his incredible tattoos stretching across his body. All with hidden meanings that he’d once overheard him describing a little to Éponine before tears had started streaming down his cheeks, her comforting him and he’d quickly walked away from watching the scene. Tattoos were a part of Grantaire’s life, knowing it was his day job, but he’d never had the courage to ask. The sad artwork he saw hidden at the bottom of his bag, the reason the mirrors in his run-down apartment were often covered with old sheets.

And even just the small things, his favourite colour, movie, food… Everything he could ever know about Grantaire. Because even if he would never know him in any other way, never get to taste his lips, fall asleep to his ramblings, wake up to his smile – he would take what he could get.

“And, you know, if that hasn’t got you sold, I can always make pasta.”

Grantaire grinned. “Well, Apollo. That’s got me. I thought you’d never ask.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Hopefully next one should be up soon, thankyou for being patient and leaving all those kind messages - they just mean everything to me, especially now. :) x

It wasn’t like Grantaire hadn’t known that finally getting over his love for Enjolras was going to be near impossible. He was more than aware.

But one human just wasn’t allowed to be that amazing.

Oh, he’d known and thought that already. For years.

But they had spent the last few weeks as his _friend_ , which was a joy in itself, and he’d discovered all these little quirks of his that just made him adore him all the more if it was even possible at that point.

The way he got so sappy when they’d come across a cat along a path, confessing himself to be a strong cat person and Grantaire showing him a small tattoo of his own childhood kitty. It made his heart flutter, the way Enjolras had looked it with such sweetness, a way nobody had before, and listened to his stories about the chaotic things she had got up to in her days intently with a smile.

Then there was his fear of spiders. Now that was adorable.

Here, this insanely brave man, determined to beat injustice without letting anyone get in his way – cowering on top of a chair and pointing to the tiniest spider on the floor.

And when Grantaire tells an unimpressed Combeferre he wasn’t completely lovestruck in that moment… that may have been a slight lie.

The couple-like domesticity of getting it in a cup and taking it outside while Enjolras continuously asked if it was gone yet, trying his best so seem unbothered by it (which wasn’t going well in any regard) was enough to make anyone fall in love with the blonde.

And, as it turns out, wasn’t just politics he was so passionate about. When the group had ordered pizza and Grantaire asked for pineapple on his, Enjolras had looked at him in horror and spluttered as though he’d said the most outrageous thing ever.

By now, he was pretty sure he’d gone over these little facts of his a million times with Éponine who had finally lost interest and left their apartment to go see Cosette, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac who had arrived for nothing more than food before leaving again were finding it more entertaining than anything.

“You’ve got it bad, R. Really bad.” Combeferre states simply, running his hand through Grantaire’s curls again from where his head was carelessly thrown on his lap.

“Way to point out the obvious.”

Courfeyrac just groans from across the room. “How many times can I say it? Enjolras. Likes. You. Back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“That’s it! I give up. I fully give up. I’m going to kill them both and I won’t regret it, I swear—”

“Courf.” he sends him what’s supposed to be a stern look but a smile is playing on his lips. “We promised to be patient.”

Courfeyrac just folds his arms and huffs. “ _You_ did.”

They’ve gone off into chatting themselves again, and if it wasn’t so funny to Grantaire he might’ve felt more like a third wheel. But his phone pings, and he’s more than happy that they’re distracted to not see his face light up when he sees the name.

**_Apollo has sent an image._ **

**_Apollo:_ Just** **finished this book I think you’d like, feel free to borrow it.**

**_R:_ it’s not harry potter so nope**

**_Apollo:_ You know, Harry Potter is actually very problematic.**

**_R:_ ** **um w o w can’t believe you’d say that about my son**

**_Apollo:_ Lol.**

**_R:_** **that book actually looks really good tho thanks enjy i’ll check it out**

 **_R:_** **also do you know you can type without caps and punctuation**

 **_Apollo:_** **WHY DOES EVERYONE SAY THIS!**

 **_R:_ ** **BECAUSE IT’S WEIRD**

 **_Apollo:_** **IT’S CALLED GRAMMAR.**

 _ **R** :_ **NOPE IT’S CALLED BEING A BOOMER APOLLO**

He’s called back to the present by Courf pinching his shoulder.

“Ah, I see, texting Enjolras is more productive than listening to me.”

“Enjolras actually texts you back?” Combeferre frowns. “I don’t know what I’ve done. We used to be so close and now he’s barely responding. He’s never been like this before.”

“Well, he’s distracted.” Courfeyrac grins and winks at Grantaire, who just groans while Combeferre laughs.

“You’re right. Maybe he’s finally coming to his senses!”

“He was recommending a book and now we’re just joking around. It’s what friends do.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He waves his hand dismissively.

Courfeyrac checks his watch. “Oh, Ferre, we gotta go!”

He smiles. “Look at you being all responsible with time-keeping.”

“Well, I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

Grantaire fakes a gag. “You two make me sick, go away already. Or better yet, when can I complain about you to the others?”

“Soon.” Combeferre nods, pushing his glasses up. “Soon, I promise you won’t have to keep it secret much longer. It’s just new and we don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Speak for yourself.” Courfeyrac snorts. “I’m dating one of the smartest men alive. I can’t wait to brag to everyone!”

Ferre pushes him a little but he’s still smiling and there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh God, spare me, please don’t give me a replay of the tongue-tie I walked in on last week.” Grantaire groans, covering his eyes mockingly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes, picking up his phone from the table. “See ya soon, R. Hopefully with our dumbass Enjolras. Ooh, you should have seen his face when he found out you were in love with someone, it was like his whole world had just been destroyed and—”

“You know he won’t believe you.” Combeferre laughs, taking Courf’s hand in his. “But he’s right. Tell me if there’s any new developments, Grantaire.”

“You make it sound like a project.”

He shrugs and smiles kindly. “Maybe it is one.”

Once they’re gone, he trails around the apartment trying to distract himself from the imminent fact that he really, _really_ wishes Enjolras was there with him.

Before he gives up, he picks up the heavy book Combeferre had left lying on the sofa. Of course he was the type of person to bring books wherever he went and keep them pristine, he scoffs to himself.

He flicks through the pages, and he starts to grin. It just screams Enjolras all over. A group of student revolutionaries trying to change the laws and horrible treatment of lower class people in 19th century France. He grabs his phone in the next second.

 _**R:** _ **actually just realized ferre left a book here i looked through it and you’d love it! all about injustices and stuff so come steal it before he gets back**

And as he sits and taps nervously on the screen waiting for a response, he realizes that whatever thought he had of getting over the stupidly beautiful and passionate blonde is completely gone from his mind and replaced with the reminder of the feeling he gets seeing Enjolras’ face beam with pride and joy when an audience cheers in agreement at one of his speeches.

And the worst part was – even though he knew it would never happen, that he could never feel the same and would find someone better like his date from the night they agreed to be friends – he found he didn’t even want to move on. Didn’t want to find someone new, knowing that no matter how great they were they could never change the warm Enjolras-shaped place in his heart.

Combeferre was right. He really had got it bad, being so wild for just an unrequited love, and even that was just an understatement.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou everyone for the support on this, I'm trying to reply to everyone but I've been so busy and struggling a lil bit. but next chapters should be coming out quicker! x

“No. Nope, nope, nope. We aren’t watching Frozen.”

Enjolras opens his mouth to protest but Grantaire stops him.

“Okay, I know what you’re planning but do _not_ do those puppy eyes and pull the ‘friend’ card because you know I won’t be able to say no to it after the Taylor Swift fiasco, you evil man.”

He grins and laughs. “Alright, fine. Just because you’re obsessed with Rapunzel and Eugene. Or Flynn. Whatever his name is.”

Grantaire gives him a light-hearted shove. “I can’t believe I’m talking to someone so atrocious that they prefer Frozen to Tangled.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Because I’m right. The sisterly love is so much more important to be shown than—”

“Yeah, yeah, but if you were there when Azelma and Gavroche watched it about a billion times when they visited for the weekend you would be allergic to it, too, trust me.”

“Don’t tell me you guys can’t even stop debating for one minute, even over fucking Disney.” Éponine walks back in, rolling her eyes, with more beers in hand. “And anyway, you’re a hypocrite, R. You hummed all the songs for bloody weeks afterwards.”

“See.” Enjolras gives him a prod. “Liar.”

“Ugh, they’re arguing over which film to watch. We don’t even get a say anymore. Save us, ‘Ponine.” Feuilly groans in the corner, but he’s clearly not complaining too much as he’s snuggled into Bahorel’s arms.

“Boys.” Éponine turns to them with an eyebrow raised. “Joly set up this movie night for fun, not so you two could spend the whole time flirting with each other.”

“Exactly!” Joly calls from where he’s strewn across the sofa on Musichetta and Bossuet’s laps. “You tell them!”

Grantaire throws a cushion at her, and Enjolras just really hopes he’s missed the flush that curses his face at her words.

Enjolras had been too distracted being near Grantaire and talking with him to even notice that it had gone nearly 3am already, when he checks his phone.

Usually, Enjolras would be tired of being social and aching to go back to the apartment. But there was really no point when he already had his home right there beside him.

It was his friends’ fault, really. They’d taken all the spaces and left them with a single armchair that was far more comfortable and relaxing than Enjolras would want to admit. He’d tried his best to keep as far from Grantaire as possible so he wouldn’t do anything stupid like kiss him as he made some ridiculous pun but soon he’d had a couple drinks and _screw it_ , the warmth was wonderful and he could see a smile on R’s face as he makes a show in cuddling up closer. A genuine smile, not one of his usual casual smirks. One where he can see his crooked teeth and the crinkles at the edges of his incredible eyes.

A lot of people wouldn’t classify Grantaire as attractive. He’d even heard someone telling it to him, and he’d had to resist the urge to go over and punch the jerk’s face as Éponine took care of it with her yelling that frightened him enough to leave. Yes, his face wasn’t symmetrical and facial features looked as though they’d been picked at random but it just made him _Grantaire_. Because when he looks at him again (resolutely ignoring how close their bodies had become) with his deep green eyes, scruffy curls, chipped nails from biting them in distraction, trailing tattoos and his caring soul, and all he can think is: beautiful.

Somehow their legs had become entwined in that time. Not that he was complaining.

It wasn’t cuddling, Enjolras had to keep reminding himself so he wouldn’t let his mind wander into a territory that just wasn’t allowed.

 _Not_ cuddling.

Because that’s what couples do. And Grantaire loves someone. Someone else, his prime suspect still being Combeferre. He couldn’t allow himself to go down the route of even slightly thinking there was a possibility of it being him because if knowing that the witty, talented man didn’t feel the same for him was bad enough, that kind of disappointment would be unbearable.

He could feel Grantaire’s breath tickling his neck, and fuck, Enjolras doesn’t know what he’d rather do – take his hand and have it in his own forever or kiss him, kiss him simply _everywhere_.

“Head in the clouds, Apollo?”

He’s just so close, and…

Fine, so maybe it was cuddling.

At the realization, he nods slightly and backs away a little. There’s no way he wanted to create any animosity between them, or with Combeferre.

He tries to ignore how he can see in his peripheral that Grantaire’s face falls and settles into a frown as he pulls back, even though he already knows he’ll be thinking about it for the rest of the night.

“Wow. So neither of them are listening anymore. Am I actually just talking to myself here?” Courfeyrac is gaping at him indignantly, looking around the room. “Are _any_ of you even listening to me?”

“I am.” Marius says kindly, pausing from stroking Cosette’s hair and chatting to her with a sweet smile, despite clearly having only just started paying attention to them instead of his girlfriend.

“Me, too!” Jehan waves their hand, hands unfolding from their ginger braid. “Well, kinda. I’m tired. I think I understood a few words.”

“Well, seems you’re the only two.” He slumps back with an over-dramatic huff.

Combeferre ruffles his hair kindly. “Well, that’s rude, I’m right here.”

“That’s true!” He spins around and his face lights up as though he hasn’t seen him in years. “You’re great.”

“Well, I have an excuse, Courf, I’ve been dealing with two dumbass children running ‘round the apartment. You haven’t.” Ép groans, sinking into the sofa and taking another swig from her beer.

“You’re so mean.” Grantaire gives her a fake glare. “They’re lovely.”

“Yeah, to _you_ because they like you. When you’re not there, they’re fucking demons. Especially Gavroche. He actually wants to join Les Amis. Bloody hell, imagine the chaos.”

“You should allow him! I miss Gav.” Courf pouts. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. Bring him round to us next time.”

“Oh, you don’t want that. They ask so many personal questions, wouldn’t stop ‘til they got their answer.” Grantaire laughs fondly, his voice so soft when he talks about them, and it makes Enjolras’ heart quicken just a bit more.

Éponine scoffs at his sentence, putting her legs up on the table in front of her.

“Oh, please. They asked once, just _once_ , if you had ever been in love and you went off on an hour-long rant about his eyes, and his hair and how much you just want to kiss him every time you see him and—”

Grantaire cuts her off by putting a hand over her giggling mouth.

And just like that, Enjolras’s buzzing mood has been drenched in cold water.

“That’s enough of that. For once I think I’m more sober than you, Ép, I’ll take you home.”

“No, I wanna hear more of this.” Courfeyrac grins cheekily and leans forward. “Do go on.”

“What else was it you said? Oh, when he smiles the whole world lights up according to R. Or stops and stares for a while. I don’t know, but then he started singing ‘Just the way you are’ so could be either. He was a bit drunk but it was _so_ cute.”

Courfeyrac just giggles. “Aww, that’s adorable. Get a video next time.”

“Shut up, no, I didn’t say that or sing anything! This conversation is over!”

He looks over at him, his face pink and the tips of his ears burning from embarrassment. They’re both right. It was adorable and, fuck, what he’d give to have Grantaire thinking of him so lovingly.

“Leave him alone, you two.” Combeferre chips in.

Of course, he’s smiling and shaking his head slightly at them all.

It’s not like he could blame his friend. Or anyone else who’d taken an interest in R, for that matter.

And if his stomach churned and his eyes felt like watering when Grantaire blushed at Combeferre’s gaze – well, it was nobody’s business.

But it had gone on for too long.

He makes sure his phone is out of Grantaire’s eyeline when he clicks on the contact.

 **_Enjolras:_ ** **Can I talk to you about something important please?**

Combeferre’s eyes meet his, questioning, before they flicker to R and he nods.

**_Ferre:_ Sure. About R, I’m guessing? I’m glad you’ve figured it out, it’s been a while and I’d love to discuss it with you if you’d ever like. x**

**_Enjolras:_ No I really don’t want to hear about that. I get it, you win, I’m trying to back off here**

**_Enjolras:_ ** **I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. We’re good friends and I don’t want to destroy that, it’s just difficult. Anyway, we should meet in person. He is far too important for talking over text.**

 **_Enjolras:_** **It is***

 **_Enjolras:_** **Tomorrow I can visit yours?**

 **_Ferre:_** **Lol I’m a bit confused with what you mean by all that but yep, we can chat then it works for me. Have something to tell you too actually. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

In hindsight, maybe sending that text wasn't such a good idea as it had seemed at the time in Enjolras' hazy, tipsy mind.

Because as he stands outside his two closest friends apartment, trying his best to pluck up the courage to knock on the bright slightly stained yellow door that Courfeyrac had insisted on – much to Combeferre’s reluctance – when they'd moved in together he wishes he could take it back so he wouldn't have to have this no doubt painfully awkward conversation.

He takes a breath, looking down at his phone again for what felt like the million times, his lockscreen a slightly cropped picture of the Amis, determinedly not looking at Grantaire’s happy smile, his oversized hoodie smothering most of him leaving just his paint-stained fingers from the art class before their meeting poking out, his hand resting on Enjolras’ shoulders.

He briefly thinks back to the picture a few years ago, where even then he’d got a strange, warm feeling at Grantaire’s touch that he'd simply chalked up to them not being close within the group.

So much for not looking.

Tearing his eyes away, he swallows and tries the door handle. It opens easily and he frowns as he walks in.

He whispers in case Combeferre is studying because he knows just how annoying it is for someone to come in when you're deep in concentration and work. 

Particularly when it's stupidly gorgeous men in green who feel very welcome to come and go as they like.

It would be so much easier if he minded more than he actually did. 

“Hey, the door was unlocked, I—” 

He stops as he sees Combeferre’s tall frame pressed against the wall, his usual blue jumper and shirt that distinguishes him rumpled, his glasses carelessly tugged back in his hair. And holding him, is a brightly coloured man that’s easily identified as Courfeyrac with messy curls.

Their bodies intertwined, lips locked.

“What the fuck?” He says loudly, and they jump apart.

Courf grins as Ferre scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Enj! Hi! Yeah, this was what Ferre was going to tell you. We may have kinda forgotten you were coming. But, well, this is happening. So.”

He looks at him for a reply and Enjolras splutters.

“How- how could you do this? I can’t believe you two! I thought- I thought you were better than this. And to Grantaire of all people. This is disgusting.”

Courf’s face drops, the smile in his voice gone and replaced with hurt.

“Since when does Grantaire have anything to do with it? Dude, I don’t know what has gotten into you but you’re being a real bitch so I think you should leave right now.”

He hates seeing the stricken look in Combeferre’s eyes but he has to continue.

“Listen. I love you both, okay, and I was going to try and be okay with you dating R, Ferre, I really was. But you can’t do this to him. It would break his heart. And why would you cheat on him like this, anyway? He’s attractive, smart, kind, funny, talented – the list goes on. How could he not be enough? He’s _everything_. I mean, that man can hold his own in a strong argument against me which is a feat in itself but he can do it even while drunk. His art could make it into galleries, they’re that great, and he knows all these myths and legends off the back of his hand that he could tell me the correct versions of them instead of the common ones in the media without looking it up or reading a book or anything. So tell me how, _how_ , is he not enough that you have to be with someone else?”

Now he’s finished his speech, out of breath and impatient, he looks at them waiting for a response of some sort.

Courf is doubled up in laughter, and Ferre is sympathetically smiling and shaking his head as though scolding a naughty child.

Not the one he was thinking would happen.

“Well now, Ferre, I’m getting a divorce and taking the kids! How dare you cheat on me this way!” Courf mock gasps in between his laughter.

“This isn’t a joke.” Enjolras says, his voice faltering in confusion.

“Oh, I can see that, you idiot. That’s what makes it so goddamn funny.” He responds before dissolving into giggles again.

Combeferre walks forward to where Enjolras has his arms crossed and his posture upright and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Enjolras. I’m not with Grantaire. Clearly you should be, but I’m not, alright?”

He stops. “Really?”

Courf jumps back in, eyes bright and sparkling.

“Wait, wait, wait. What on earth even made you think our Ferre was dating R? Dude. C'mon.”

“That morning after he slept over. I saw your phone notifications. You had told Grantaire you loved him and he said it back. I... I just thought...”

“You jump to conclusions very easily, damn.” Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows. “Grantaire tells everyone he loves them! So do I. I'm the reason they both started saying it.”

“He's never told me he loves me. How was I supposed to know?” Enjolras responds, trying to keep the bitterness out of his words.

Of course R had never said he loved him, he didn't feel like that. They'd only just become friends. Maybe it'd be worse, him saying those three little words that Enjolras would spend his nights hoping they meant what he wanted them to.

“Oh, God.” He continues, covering his face awkwardly. “I was so cruel, barging in like that and shouting. I’m so sorry. I really am happy for you, I promise. I actually thought you were together until that night. I’m glad you are.”

He’d thought so for longer than he wanted to admit, considering what he’d been painfully assuming for the past weeks. The first time Combeferre introduced him, he’d assumed it was his boyfriend. After all, it was impossible for him not to give into Courf's big smiles with his outlandish outfits full of colour and the chocolate waves stop his tanned head.

“Forgiven and forgotten, Enj.” Ferre nods. “I think I would’ve done pretty much the same if I thought you were with Courf and I saw you kissing Grantaire instead.”

He can’t help but blush at the thought of R’s lips on his, but coughs and pulls himself back to reality.

“Yeah. It was horrible. I can’t even explain. But I guess it was a better thought than it being some stupid guy out there that wouldn't treat him right. At least I knew you would. Grantaire should be happy, he doesn't deserve anyone undeserving. Never mind. Now it’s too late, we can't stop it.”

Combeferre patiently looks at him with a kind look. “Why would you want to stop it, Enjolras? You said you want him to be happy.”

He groans and rests his head on the cool table to try and get his thoughts together. There was no point denying it, it'd taken too long for him to realize in the first place. Who cared anymore?

“I love him. I love Grantaire.” He whispers.

“Knew it! KNEW it!” Courf yells, pumping a fist in the air. “What did I say, Ferre? Didn't I tell you he'd sort his shit out with the possibility of losing R?! I’m a fucking _genius_.”

Combeferre looks at him over his glasses. “Are you trying to get another complaint from the neighbours about noise?”

He shrugs in response and grins. “I don’t know, will you be coming to my room tonight?”

Ferre blushes and looks away, a smile on his face.

Well.

“I’m proud of you two, but I’m still here.” Enjolras reminds them pointedly.

“You shouldn’t be.” Courf snorts. “Go get R, finally do what he’s been wanting you to do for years, shove him up against a wall and—”

“Even if there was a possibility of him liking me which I’m certain there isn’t – he’ll always prefer that guy he loves.” he sighs. “You said so yourself that night, Courf, that he cares about him more than anything. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Holy shit. I’m getting déjà vu.” Courf leans back. “It was literally just the other day that Grantaire thought you were in love with someone and said those exact same words. You two really are soulmates. Ugh. Doesn’t matter, Ferre and I are still cuter. We communicate and aren’t totally oblivious, you see.”

Enjolras furrows his eyebrow, trying not to give himself false hope. “I don’t get it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? ‘That guy’ is _you_. Dumbass.”

With that, Enjolras jumps up, blood thumping in his ears, ready to find his favourite cynic.


	9. Chapter 9

For what was the first time since he’d ever met him – Enjolras was in love. There was no denying it any longer, no matter how much he wanted to.  
Grantaire wasn't a fool. He'd not missed the distraction, the longing look in his eyes, being deep in thought but not talking about it like he would if it was about Les Amis or a new idea for a cause, the blush that coloured his cheeks at odd times like he’d been caught thinking something he shouldn't have. He’d even stopped moaning about the amount of PDA from Cosette and Marius in meetings, as though he now suddenly understood the incessant need to be cuddling or kissing someone for hours without end.

If only it wasn’t for Cosette. He refused to even let his mind entertain the worry that Enjolras had finally found a man so perfect and amazing for his high standards. High standards that did not include a messy artist struggling to make ends meet, whom his first memories of were being too drunk to function and shamelessly mocking him and his plans.

He’d resolutely ignored it, and it’d worked. Enjolras had never been in love. And it was far easier to think that he was still of the mindset that love was a waste of time instead of realizing it was simply Grantaire that he wasn’t interested in.

Until he'd heard the two local hopeless romantics, Cosette and Jehan, when they were visiting Éponine.

“I think he's finally gotten with him.”

“Who?”

She glances over at Grantaire which he pretends not to see, continuing to stare at the words on his phone that have now become a blur, because it was just embarrassing - it seemed all his friends had taken notice of his stupid, _stupid_ unrequited feelings.

“Oh, you know who.”

“Since when was Enjy in a relationship with Voldemort?”

She laughs. “Oh, shush. When we went out that night, you remember I said I should set him up with his dream guy? I think he's done it all by himself. Who'd have thought?"

Jehan grins. "For sure. You see those pining looks. He’s in love."

Cosette hums, nodding, tucking a strand of soft hair behind her ear.

Fuck. The 'dream guy' on the night out that had made him get stupidly drunk and led him to Enjolras where he had nearly, nearly confessed. Like an idiot.

He tells himself he’s okay. It was bound to happen eventually and it was Grantaire’s own fault he hadn’t had the courage to ever do anything about his hopeless love for him just because of his fears. And someone had swooped in and got there first. Not that he could blame them.

He just hopes it’s someone good enough. Someone whose texts will make his face light up in that childlike, goofy and goddamn beautiful smile. Someone who makes sure he eats when he’s too distracted by studying or writing up speeches and makes his coffee right, the way he likes it – with just a splash of milk and two sugars – but also tells him it’s not good to be on caffeine all the time and tries to get him to drink tea instead. Someone who’ll do anything to make him happy, stay with him on bad days and love all of him for exactly who he is, the good and the bad.

_Fuck._

He shoots Éponine a text as the sun starts to set in the sky, deciding that now it was warming up, he could go for one of his daily walks a therapist had recommended to distract himself from going to drink.

**_R:_ ** **yo i’m gonna walk for a bit see ya and oh don’t u dare eat my chocolate brownie or i will fuckin kill u**

**_epo9:_ ** **huh why don’t you go to the park that’d be nice**

**_R:_ ** **tru i could draw the sunset**

**_R:_ ** **u know he’s in love**

**_epo9:_ ** **i don’t even need to ask who ‘he’ is do i**

_**R:** _ **nope**

**_R:_ ** **how did u get over marius pls i need to stop this ugh**

**_epo9:_ ** **easy i decided to have an unrequited crush on his girlfriend instead**

**_R:_ ** **wow u are so helpful**

It could be the man he’d seen with him on the date that he’d, _fuck_ , he’d rudely interrupted by making Enjolras take pity and leave with him instead of this obviously attractive man that, judging by his happy mood when they hang out that night, he’d had a lot of fun with.

He wanted to hit himself, thinking about it now. Even if it wasn’t him – his irrational hurt and jealousy of not being the one that was allowed to press soft kisses into his golden waves, not being the one to plan great dates that he’d make sure Enjolras would absolutely enjoy enough to make him wander around the raining streets, alone in the dark of night.

**_epo9:_ ** **bro are u there**

**_R:_ ** **yea**

**_epo9:_ ** **lovely romantic place for a date isn’t it**

**_R:_ ** **ep i told u i don’t want anyone that isn’t Enjolras ughhh i hate me**

**_R:_ ** **u kno he wore this dumb jumper the other day and he’s so tol he kept having to push the sleeves back down i think i cried a lil**

**_R:_ ** **WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WHY IS HE HERE**

**_epo9:_ don’t worry i’ll leave the flat for you two. get some, my boi**

If Grantaire was jittery already with the new knowledge of Enjolras, his heart was probably about to jump out of his chest with its rate at the sight of him walking towards him.

And, _oh_ , his ‘resting bitch face’ expression as Grantaire calls it breaks into a bright smile that could blind a man with the beauty when his eyes find his. There’s a warm buzzing in his chest at the sight. His hair is loose, flowing a little in the calm wind behind him, with his signature red jacket that painfully reminds him of when he was wrapped up in it on the way back to the flat.

“Hi, you.” He smiles awkwardly.

“Hey, yourself.” His eyes are shining and happy, and maybe Grantaire doesn’t loathe the guy he loves in that moment because he should definitely thank him.

Grantaire takes a breath as he stands up, ready to hear all about this man and- “Oh, shit!”

He’d forgotten he had an open pencil case and sketchbook in his lap, that have now scattered over the grass and he scrambles for the pieces of paper fallen out before Enjolras can see his own face staring back at him and they’d take a thousand steps back in their friendship.

He’s not quick enough. Enjolras, bless him, immediately bends down and helps pick them up, far calmer than Grantaire in all his desperation. He’s got the pencils back in when he hears a quiet, almost inaudible, gasp.

“Wow.”

When he whips around to see what he’d found, he really wishes he hadn’t. It’s the one he’d kept crumpling up over and over before deciding to keep it on a late night, stuffed at the back. It’s of Enjolras – but it’s possible his favourite one he’s ever done. Usually, he was never able to get him just right.

He’s by a cracked window in the upstairs of the Musain, his face scarred, holding up the flag of France in one hand and Grantaire’s, who’s out of frame, in the other. His hair is blood-stained and his waistcoat is dirty, but his eyes are still ablaze with passion and righteousness, his lips curled into a smirk. Above him, the black, bold words ‘DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING’ stands – hints of red sparking the edges of the words. 

“I’m so sorry, just ignore it, I’ll go, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or—”

Before he can speak anymore, Enjolras has surged forward and his lips are on his.

And it’s like Grantaire’s brain stops working. He freezes for a moment, shocked at the warmth and tingling sensation, and then instinctively moves his lips back, making Enjolras huffs out a laugh of relief.

He doesn’t even know how they end up entangled in one another, his fingers finding themselves stroking through his locks, earning himself a soft moan, being tugged closer, Enjolras’ heavenly hands trailing up and down his back. He’s coaxing his mouth open, slowly but surely, and Grantaire welcomes it with enthusiasm, arching against him.

He has to pull away for a moment and they breathe against each other, basking in the other’s warmth and salty lips.

“Your drawing was pretty good, Grantaire.” His voice is hoarse and Grantaire can’t help but feel proud of being the one to do it to him.

His mind is rearing back into gear, and he steps away, suddenly, quietly bemoaning the loss of contact of their bodies against one another.

“I… I don’t understand. I could tell you lo- liked someone but I didn’t think it was me at all, I thought you knew my feelings and were waiting to let me down easy. Oh, fuck, I’m so stupid. Did you kiss me to try and forget about that guy?”

Enjolras cuts him off by taking his hand and kissing his knuckles, and Grantaire’s heart simply flutters.

“It’s _you_ , you beautiful idiot. It’s always been you. And it always will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f i n a l l y
> 
> one more chapter left of this now!! thankyou so much for reading x


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Enjolras woke up, he wanted to go back to sleep. And not for the usual reasons; he’d had a late night writing essays or he was having one of those days he just wished someone was beside him, wrapped around him, over him, under him, in any kind of way, – a particular someone. It seemed the latter had come true, because there Grantaire was, curled up next to him, his warm breath fanning his cheek, making him want to snuggle down, and bask in this happiness, then drifting back into what had finally been a dreamless sleep without any nightmares of failure. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed, which he’d always hated doing. He wasn’t used to that kind of intimacy, nor did he actually like or appreciate it.

But this was _Grantaire_ , which comforted him. His presence was always comforting, the mere sight of his crooked smile was enough to cease his nerves before an exam or speech. He wasn’t with Combeferre, or some other guy or girl. Enjolras hadn’t lost him. R was right here, with him, where he should be.

He shuffled over a little to get closer, a contented smile forming. This felt safe. Normal. Right.

Grantaire’s thick, inky curls are starkly beautiful contrasted to the fresh white sheets that he can touch now, he doesn’t have to just fantasize anymore, which he does, running his fingers through, untangling the little knots. His mind supplies memories from the night, trailing kisses up his tanned chest, up to his neck, along his strong stubbled jaw, the whispered ‘you’re beautiful’ and ‘I’m yours’ in the quiet of night.

“You can stop staring now.” Grantaire suddenly says, making Enjolras jump, when his eyes were still closed. There’s a mischievous smile playing on his lips and, God, this is how he wants to wake up every day.

“Or you could say ‘good morning’ like a normal person. How could you tell?”

“Psychic abilities, Apollo.” He quips back easily, before stretching his arms out above his head and opening his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“12.” He replies. “I didn’t want to wake you. You’re much nicer when you’re asleep.”

“I’m always nice!” He says back indignantly, and Enjolras laughs at the expression.

“Sure you are.” He grins, before leaning in and pressing a light kiss onto his lips.

Grantaire’s emerald eyes, his irises sharp and burning into his, widen – seeming stunned for a moment as he visibly remembers the events from last night.

“ _Wow_. Thought this was a dream.”

“Thankfully not.” Enjolras smiles, and brushes away a rebellious curl that he’d noticed bothering him in his sleep.

But instead of seeing the smile he’d hoped for – Grantaire pulls away and sits up, looking worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. Oh God. He regretted it already.

Loving him from afar had been difficult enough, how was he going to cope with these memories of being able to hold R in his arms, knowing the taste of his lips, the feelings of his stubble trailing his chest. Just having that one precious night with him but not waking up like it for the rest of his days.

His head is spinning.

Grantaire takes a few seconds and he’s about to open his mouth to apologise or something, _anything_ , to break the silence when he speaks.

“Enjolras, I just... are you sure?”

That took him aback. “Well, yes. I don't do this often. Of course I'm sure.”

“But are you sure of me? I know I'm not too easy to get along with sometimes and I'm still recovering from those fucking alcohol problems and self-esteem. And I'm trying, I am, you know, with everything but... I don't want to make you deal with that. It's not fair on you.”

“Grantaire. Do you love me even with my, and I'll only admit this once, 'obsession' of work and causes? And how I can lose my temper quickly?”

“I mean, it helps that you're hot when you're angry but yeah, obviously. Everyone’s flawed and I love all of you. Always have.”

Enjolras smiles, his body feeling warmer and his stomach fluttering at those words again. Grantaire didn’t regret it. Grantaire loved him. “See. There's your answer.”

“Enj...” he says softly, and Enjolras presses a kiss to his forehead in response.

“So. You want to go out today or stay in bed?”

He groans. “I 'spose we should get up. Seize the day. No time like the present. All that fuckery.”

“Positive start to the morning, I see.” Enjolras laughs and stands up from the bed.

“Where are you going? I was kidding, cuddles are required right now.” He pouts back.

“Breakfast. I’m pretty sure the whole of France can hear your stomach.”

Grantaire grins. “Fair. But you’re not doing it.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he exaggerates, getting up and stretching his limbs, “you are a terrible cook, Apollo.”

“I am _not_.”

“Oh, c’mon. You nearly burnt down Jehan’s house trying to help them and now you live off coffee and pot noodles. Can’t say I blame you, but still. I make a bangin’ stack of pancakes.”

“Guess you have to teach me then.”

Enjolras leads him into the kitchen, taking his opportunity to hold his hand and intertwine it with his own.

Grantaire mutters the ingredients as he gets them out as if to check them off his mental list, which Enjolras never thought would be something so endearing.

He was right, he hated cooking and he wasn’t good at it either.

Or, that could be his excuse for placing his chin on Grantaire’s tattooed shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Wow, real helpful there, thanks.” He laughs.

“Shut up, I’m keeping you warm.”

For once, he sighs when his phone on the counter pings instead of grabbing at it to see if it was a news notification for politics, and has to force his body into leaving the comfortable position he’d got himself into against Grantaire and picking it up.

**_Combeferre_** **: Hi. I didn’t want to pry but Courf and Ép forced me, said you’d tell me and not them. To be fair, they're probably right lmao. Are you home and is Grantaire with you? x**

Well, yes.

He’s fairly certain Grantaire could take him anywhere and it’d feel safe and right as long as it was with him.

Home wasn’t this tired building with broken heating and plumbing in desperate need of attention.

Home is the sleepy hum R lets out when he stretches. It’s his knuckles stained of paint, blowing a lock of his hair out his eyes when he’s deep in concentration of his art. It’s the way he grins and coughs purposefully to interrupt Enjolras on one of his points.

It’s a person.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh that's it!! thankyou so much for reading, the kudos and comments have meant the world to me. i hope it's not too much of a cliche ending lol but i thought it was fitting. i might be writing more e/r stories soon so check back to my page if you wanna *finger guns*
> 
> bye for now! :) x


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